


Anything To Win

by redcandle17



Category: Harry Potter - Rowling
Genre: F/M, Sexual Harassment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-11
Updated: 2010-02-11
Packaged: 2017-10-07 04:13:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/61309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redcandle17/pseuds/redcandle17
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Slytherin Quidditch Captain Montague will try anything to upset his Gryffindor rival Angelina Johnson, including sexual harassment.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Anything To Win

Montague didn't hate Angelina Johnson or anything. It wasn't personal. It was simply that he needed to win the Quidditch Cup this year. This was his only year as captain, and although he didn't plan to pursue a professional Quidditch career, it was vital that he win. His pride - and the goodwill of the Slytherin alumni with whom he'd soon be seeking a job - depended on it.

It was a stroke of luck that the Gryffindors' new keeper was untalented, but he couldn't rely on that alone. The Gryffindors' greatest strength was their seeker, but Potter was untouchable. Besides, distracting and wearing down the team captain should disrupt the entire team. So Montague began his campaign of harassment against Angelina.

He bumped into her in the hallways, knocking her books out of her arms. He'd mutter an insincere apology and walk away, smirking. He arranged for a contingent of Slytherins to attend each Gryffindor practice session and heckle them until their Keeper was unable to block a single goal.

Marcus used to goad Oliver Wood into fistfights, but Montague didn't think it was appropriate for him to do the same with Angelina. He had no problems shoving her during Quidditch, but his sense of gentlemanly conduct was too deeply ingrained to actually punch her. So in lieu of a good fight – which would have relieved some of his own stress, as well as preoccupy the typically temperamental Gryffindor - Montague settled for making Angelina agitated.

At first he merely insulted her friends and her House. At Pansy Parkinson's suggestion, he insulted her hairstyle as well – though he actually kind of liked it. He bullied a Ravenclaw into switching seats with him in Charms so he could kick the back of Angelina's chair during exams. It was quite by accident that he stumbled upon the thing that had the strongest effect on her.

He saw her in the library, sitting with her legs propped on another chair. The position made her skirt slid up her legs. It was nothing terribly indecent, but it was noticeable to a seventeen year old male, and Montague certainly appreciated the view. Angelina had nice legs.

She happened to look up and catch him staring. Glaring at him, she crossed her legs under her chair primly. Montague automatically smirked at her. "Don't bother on my account, Johnson. In fact, I'd prefer it if you spread them a bit."

She responded by making an obscene gesture in his direction, but she looked uncomfortable as well as angry.

Montague knew he had found the perfect way to get to Angelina. He openly leered at her whenever he saw her. And instead of merely annoying her by throwing paper balls at her during Potions, he began to write her notes.

_Johnson, that's a pretty old broom you've got. How'd you like something new to ride?_

_You're looking a little tense, Johnson. If Weasley isn't satisfying you, you know where to find me._

Angelina crumpled the first note into a ball and threw it at him. He caught it, laughing. Snape had taken five points from Gryffindor.

At first he was content with innuendo. But as the weeks passed, he began to write more personal things.

_I was picturing you on your knees with my cock in your mouth, but the fantasy was ruined because I don't know whether you swallow or spit. _

Angelina set that one on fire and lost Gryffindor twenty points.

_Last game, I wanted to fuck you so hard you wouldn't be able to stay on your broom. _

Angelina looked perpetually angry and weary. Montague did feel guilty, but he reminded himself how much worse he'd feel if he lost Slytherin the Quidditch Cup. At least Marcus had three victories before losing the Cup that one year. Besides, after Gryffindor's dismal performance against Hufflepuff, he was sure he was on the right track. And no one made Angelina read the notes or listen to him when he accosted her in the hallways. Sometimes, while he stroked himself in the privacy of his bed or the locker room, he fancied that Angelina enjoyed reading those notes as much as he enjoyed writing them.

Unfortunately for Montague, he didn't even get a chance to play in Slytherin's final game of the year. Some people would say it was karma, him being pushed into that vanishing cabinet and taking weeks to recover from it, but thankfully Montague didn't believe in that sort of thing. He preferred to blame the Weasley twins and plot ways to make them suffer. He was actually fantasizing about the twins being devoured alive by trolls when Angelina visited him in the infirmary.

She was carrying the Quidditch Cup, which Gryffindor had won yesterday. "I'm debating whether to bash your skull in with this thing or just curse you," she said, with deceptive calmness.

Montague looked around worriedly. Madam Pomfrey was usually shoving one vile potion after another into his mouth, but now when he needed her, she was no where in sight. And Adrian still hadn't brought him his wand like he'd asked weeks ago. "It was nothing personal, Johnson. You understand the game. Besides, you've won anyway."

"Game? Game?? Game???" Voice rising with each repetition, Angelina set the trophy down on a nearby cot and stalked towards him. She dug a handful of papers out of her pocket. "_'This class is boring isn't it? I'd rather fuck you on your desk than take more notes. What do you think?' 'Are you a moaner or a screamer?'_" She threw the papers at him. "I should owl these to your mother."

"No!" Montague shouted. "Johnson, what are you, a child? Don't get my mother involved. Where's your sense of sportsmanship?"

She nodded. "You're right. I am a big girl." She punched him

Montague clutched his chin, staring incredulously at Angelina, who was rubbing her hand and wincing. "Only a crazy Gryffindor girl would punch rather than slap," he muttered.

"I hope I never see you again, but if I do and you ever try this crap with me again, I will hex your balls off. Got it?"

"Got it." He didn't know what made him say the next thing. He was usually smarter than that. "But what would it hurt to answer some of these questions, Johnson?"

Oh fuck. Montague folded his hands over his lap protectively. She was going to kill him.

Angelina closed her eyes and took several deep breaths. Then she opened her eyes and smiled sweetly at him. "You are never going to find out. I wish you a less than speedy recovery." Waving at him with false cheer, she left.

Montague sighed. He stared sourly at the Quidditch Cup, which Angelina had forgotten. He had no trophy and he'd ruined whatever slim chance he'd ever had with Angelina. And he'd spent days in a vanishing cabinet and then weeks not knowing his own name. He certainly wouldn't shed any tears when he left Hogwarts next month.


End file.
